Memories in the Forgotten Snow
by char-tomio
Summary: All she remembered was the fact that she was going to die soon. Human AU. A collection of Liechtenstein's memories of life, loss, and love.


**Memories in the Forgotten Snow**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

**a/n: This is Human AU and a collection of Liechtenstein's broken memories. I will not be referring to any of the characters by their names. Other things will be self-explanatory.**

**Set in the 1940s or something like that when the Red and White Armies were still fighting. The location..well...somewhere between the border of Russia and Finland. Might or might not be historically accurate.**

* * *

_All she remembered was the fact that she was going to die soon._

* * *

"Privet."

She blinked a few times before coming to her senses. Warm wood accented with rich brown lighting and the smell of food. A log cabin. She could hear a fire crackling and outside, the roaring wind. She was bundled up in a variety of colored cloth, a large scarf bundled around her. It was old- the color had faded, so faded that the pink could be easily mistaken as white from a distance. The warmth was making her very sleepy..

"Would you like some borsch?"

The sentence was thickly accented. She knew well why. He was different, very different from the men she had seen in her life, or town. He easily towered over her even while sitting, his hair was silvery-blond, his eyes were perfectly polished amethysts, Slavic nose, fat cheeks that she wants to touch.

A giant teddy bear.

He thinks she doesn't understand whatever he's saying, the way she stares at him. It might be true, he had just saw her lying around unconscious in the snow._ Maybe she had been fooled into thinking that the snow was a warm and fluffy blanket.._ He does not know that he was staring at her, too.

No one knows how long they've been staring at each other. It is he who first stops and goes to the kitchen. She was left alone, thinking about where she really was. She does not recognize the place, nor the place outside. All there was outside was snow, the sky, rocks, more snow.. She looks to the window and can't even tell what time is it.

She hears heavy, clumsy footsteps and barking. She could recognize his deep voice mumbling something in a language she doesn't understand.

Their eyes meet again, green against violet. No more words are exchanged as he proceeded to feed her. She does not understand the food, but it was delicious. Beet soup with some vegetables and few chunks of meat. They sit in silence, but he can tell that she is enjoying the food. The quiet is soon replaced by chaos as five large dogs manage to get their way into the room barking and maul the poor man.

* * *

They ride on dog sleds through the snow. She holds onto him, partly for support and partly for warmth. She learned that he lives alone in an eternal blizzard. There were few landmarks and it seemed that the plain was never ending, but he seems to know where they're going. But she's afraid. Afraid that he might abandon her in the middle of the snow. She wants to ask him, but she hasn't learned his language yet. So all she does is hold onto him and pray. He notices that she's shivering so he pulls her closer to him.

She could see a few lights from the distance. Soon enough, they arrive in a town. It was her first time in weeks to see other people and notices that her rescuer was larger than anyone else. He was talking to the locals in his language. The girl was ruffling the Siberian dogs' fur when he gently taps her shoulder. He soon holds her hand and enter various houses- stores. They leave each place with a paper bag of various items. Also, he introduced her to every shopkeeper, but she could hardly understand the different languages she was exposed to in one day. At the westernmost end of town, there was one person whose language was closely related to hers, Dutch perhaps, but was too intimidating that she wasn't able to answer. She had lost count on how many stores they had been to, unless she actually took some time to count how many bags they both carried. After gathering their supplies, they took off, but the silverette looked a bit downcast.

What she didn't know was that the man was asking everyone if they knew her.

* * *

Sometimes, he would go out while she was fast asleep. He'd go to farther towns with a few supplies and a sketch of the young girl. Sometimes, it took him longer than expected, one time, it actually took him five days to get home. When he did come home, she was near dead from hunger. He had not told her where he kept the food. It was lucky that she still managed to survive. She wouldn't speak or even look at him for a week. It was her method of pouting.

He realized maybe he doesn't really need to return her wherever she came from. _If they really cared about her, they would search for her, da?_

* * *

For the next few days, weeks, or even months, she never noticed about their lack of introductions. Names weren't really necessary. He referred to her with many names, such as 'malysh', 'zhenshchina', 'dorogoy', sometimes even 'Lolita', whatever that meant. She, in turn, called him 'Herr', because that was the only thing she could think of. He was too young to be called 'Vater', or even 'Onkel'. 'Bruder' was far too affectionate. But one thing was clear.

A little more time and she would be calling him 'bruder'.

"Malysh,"

"Ja?" she stepped out of the bedroom and proceeded to wherever he was. As usual, he was in front of the fireplace, sitting on his favorite rocking chair. As soon as he heard the tapping of little feet, he turned to her. The girl's eyes widened and so did her smile. The man placed a newly-knitted snowcap on her wheat locks. He sat back and stared, large eyebrows furrowed. He then placed her two braids in front. He then flashed a sign of approval.

"Too big, though."

The sight of her happy with his little gift erased all doubts. He wasn't as good as that Icelandic boy Steilsson but he was happy. Very happy. Her smile was what he needed.

His thoughts were blank when she wrapped her arms around his large frame. It wasn't really necessary, but it sure felt good.

"Danke, bruder.."

* * *

In the middle of the eternal winter, where one would just sit back and eat away the cold, where coming out of the house was only done whenever necessary, one can get out of shape pretty quickly. Which is why she devised a clever plan to stay fit.

She could remember faint memories of her dancing to beautiful folk music, over somewhere warm, where lush green grass actually grew. Her country.

He didn't understand what came over her to ask him to dance. He protested gently, not wanting her to think that he was angry. She didn't mind him saying that he'd look silly and didn't know how to dance, she didn't understand anyway. And she wanted to do this.

Without any more words, she held his hand and hummed a hardly audible tune. He felt his conscious being taken over by her faint song. It was soft, gentle, and soon enough, he found himself holding her waist and doing fluid movements, opposite her. They waltzed around, where he sometimes hit something, such as the shelves. She giggled at him wincing, and at the fact that it didn't stop him from dancing. The song was now louder and it seemed that the wind and creaking floorboards harmonized with her soft humming. Her hand was fully engulfed by his.

He finds it difficult to actually look at her in the eye. The beautiful green emeralds he had secretly admired. She tucks a lock of her golden hair behind her ear and looks up to him- a gaze filled with admiration and trust. He tries hard to rid himself of such thoughts but acts as happy as possible. He didn't need to act- he knew he was genuinely happy. So, he smiles and voluntarily drowns himself in the sea of green, only to come face to face with the same silent bliss he has been emanating. Their heartbeats seem to match the rhythm of their song.

She was amazed when he realized that her song was faster. His movements caught up and trying hard to match the tune. He twirled her around gently and laughed. No one knew where, when or how it started. All they knew was that they were dancing to the sound of their laughter.

They bowed to their non-existent audience and sat anywhere. It was the first time he had actually laughed since he lived here.

* * *

The blizzard was at it's strongest. Everything was cold and dark. Even the cabin felt unsafe. Without any further thinking, she wrapped her scarf and blanket around her shivering frame and tried to navigate her way through.

Her whole body felt frozen when she realized that she was the only one left.

There was no sign of the dogs or him.

There was no other source of light other than the fire, which had gone out some time ago. She dropped to the couch, cocooning herself with the blanket. His absence seemed to make the fire inside her weaker. At these times, she could not do anything but pray.

It was a few hours when she heard the door creak. The familiar bark of the dogs indicated that he was there. The sleep energy kept her eyes closing against her will. Her vision wasn't very good, but she found her way to the door.

As said, her eyes weren't in the best condition, so she yelped, tripping on something like a log.

Well, it wasn't a log.

It was him.

He was bleeding.

* * *

The first thing she did was set him up on the couch and rekindled a fire. She frowned. He had went out the middle of the night to gather firewood. In the middle of the worst snowstorm ever. It didn't really surprise her that he went home crawling, but why was he wounded?

When the fire was warm enough, he took off his clothes. She winced at the sight, a piece of metal embedded just millimeters from his spine. It was a bullet. Soon, she had some sort of flash and fell back. There were memories resurfacing.

"Why were you shot?"

"Chto?"

She shook her head, trying to translate it in Russian. Instead, she responded with a more simple 'what happened?'. He breathed heavily and first asked her to bring something that can take out the bullet. There was much confusion and in the end, she had to use the end of a spoon. He painstakingly did it himself, as she most likely couldn't.

The bloody ordeal drained all his energy that after pulling the shrapnel out, he immediately collapsed. She had to take him to bed.

The girl stayed beside him throughout the night, or rather, the dark. None of them really knew if it was morning. The days were sunless.

"Herr.."

He weakly turned to her. Conscious at last, but with a headache made every little movement hurt like hell. He pondered whether to tell her about it or not. After all, she would not like it if he tried to hide it and it was inevitable. She will learn, sooner or later.

"Soldiers."

He wasn't very surprised about her startled reaction. "..Why were they here?"

"War." he breathed. He had never said that word to her before, and knew that she would not be too familiar with the term. So instead, he made weird hand signals that made everything worse. In the end, he had to tell her that they should be careful on going out again.

It was silent once again for a few minutes.

Her emerald eyes glowed in the dark. "Will you.." she spoke softly in his language, "..Please don't do that again.."

Although he was too lightheaded to even grasp the whole context, he knew she wanted him safe. Those very words were what the same things he told her whenever she did something wrong. And he was amazed that she managed to remember. "Da. Promise."

She held his larger hand fervently. "Danke schon." She laid her head on his warm, puffy chest.

* * *

True to his promise, he never did.

Because he never got well again. Not even when the blizzard completely stopped. Not even when the sun peeked out from the thick gray and melted the snow. Not even when flowers poked their heads from the ground. He never got out of bed. The bullet had permanently paralyzed him, he wasn't able to feel his legs anymore. He tried, when he was about to buy food, but failed miserably. He collapsed as soon as he got out of bed. He didn't allow her to go to town either. Truthfully, she didn't know the way, too, so she had to forage while she can. It was very hard, as she noted that there were more and more soldiers making camp nearby. She never informed him about it, as not to stress the poor Russian out.

One day, she saw him wanting to go outside. His vibrant violet eyes were tainted with silent desperation. It seemed like the first time to see his world without snow. And so, she tried hard to bring the joys of spring into the house. She brought him lots of different flowers every time she foraged.

His condition grew worse by time. The final strike was when she accidentally brought home something poisonous. It made her sick for days and as for him, his immune system was unable to fight off something as strong as that.

And one day, she came home with some real food. She cooked him up something good and proper, wishing it would at least make him better. It didn't quite help.

"Malysh,"

"Ja?"

With extreme difficulty, he tried to prop himself up in a sitting position. "..Where..Where did you get this food?"

She looked away for a while and bit her lip. He looked at her worriedly. "..Malysh-"

"I stole it."

"You what?" he blurted out, "You, how.." He then started talking in rapid Russian, most which she didn't understand. His hardly understandable scolding was interrupted by another one of his hoarse coughing fits. She rushed to his aid but stopped, realizing that he had been coughing up blood. This has never happened before. She went to give him a glass of water. And from the kitchen, he could still hear him in pain.

As soon as he finished, he felt his throat burn from the water. He finished barely half of the glass. He looked up to her with gentle, thoughtful eyes. "Malysh-"

"I stole it from some soldiers who brought a lot of food. I swear that this is not-"

He gestured her to stop and gently reminded her that he did not understand German. She frowned, unable to phrase it in his language.

"Moy dorogoy," he started, "I don't want to hear about from whom or how did you steal this. You should go on and apologize-"

"But you were starving-"

"Nyet. That's not a reason-"

She stood up abruptly. He stopped. "It's the food that keeps you alive, ja? I did not want to steal, please understand, but look. If I didn't do that, you would not have any energy to even sit and drink that water-"

"-Malysh-"

"-So please, those men have plenty to eat and I cannot-"

He tried hard to grasp her arm and stop her. Once again, she did not realize that she was speaking mixed German. The only thing he understood was the first sentence.

"It's not the food that keeps me alive." he said softly. The beat of her heart was faster than normal. He wanted to pull her into an embrace so badly, but he can't. He would not want to see her suffer the same way.

"It's you."

She blinked.

"It's you who keeps me alive."

There could be many ways to phrase that but her senses failed her and tried to run away. He grasped her tighter than usual, which made her wince. He didn't have much time for regret.

"Please listen to me, malysh, I-"

"I would rather listen to your scolding-"

"I stayed in here because I escaped from the Red Army."

She stopped struggling, as he expected her to. He gently eased his grip on her. "Da, I did not agree on some things with the communists, so.. I escaped. I was supposed to be in prison, but I was very lucky. Moy sestras and I.. Moy sestras live in somewhere far and.. Which is why the soldiers before shot me. Remember, da? That's-that's why.. Malysh! Wait-"

The hazy figure of the girl he loved steadily disappearing was the last thing he saw.

* * *

Her intentions weren't clear. She knew that no one saw her stealing food from camp, didn't she? She hoped so. Why did she even run away? She reached a familiar slope where the makeshift camp was located.

There were Russian soldiers, men who shared the same features as him. She wondered, why did the world work in such a cruel way? Countries were supposed to unite their men and work together in harmony. All she sees is men, regardless of where they came from, turning against one another, the mess of war, people justifying their evil actions with fairly believable reasons. And she has not even seen the whole effects of war yet. She hated it.

The girl bounded through the lush green meadow, secluded within the grove. She needed to take a break. There were blackened patches of grass, a little rubble and a few bullet shells. The fact that this forest will not be so green anymore after a few days irked her.

In a distance, she saw a flash of something warm. A flower. Not the ordinary kinds she would bring him- the small dainty pastels. This was a different kind of flower. It had a large, brilliant head of yellow. She ran to it's direction and realized it was far larger than her. Majestic.

It reminded her of him. He was different. Just like this flower.

Can she even take this to him? She could only hope.

* * *

There was no one left for her to give the flower.

Her face was dirty and she was sweating all over. The relatively large stalk of sunflower rested limply in her hand. The sun was setting.

He was gone.

Face flat and lifeless on the hardwood floor. She didn't know where the blood came from, from his head or had he coughed it up? Was he even bleeding or was it just the orange color of the sky? It didn't matter. Her head was spinning. He was gone.

A pained shriek pierced the peace of the scenery. Past the lush forest, past the busy wildlife, past the clean, gurgling brook, past the quaint wooden cottage.

Past the child crying for her hero.

Throughout the cold night, she held onto his still body. It was not warm, not soft, she couldn't feel his chest rise and fall as her head rested on top of it. She never did leave the body.

It stayed like these for a few days.

* * *

It stopped when two strangers, both women, entered the cottage. She couldn't blame them for being shocked. But still, she did not understand why they had to kick her out and throw stuff at her. She could only escape. The women, soldiers, the occasional crossfire, the wolves, the stares of the villagers, eyeing her like a ragged kitten. Then, she arrived in the middle of nowhere. The mountain, where the snow looked so inviting that she voluntarily blanketed herself in the frost. It was so comfortable. The cold slowly ate away her pain, replacing it with a dull ache. She could see her immense sadness in the form of tears escape from her. For some reason, the scenery seemed oddly familiar. Powders from the sky peppered her hair. They soon built up and engulfed her figure more and more.

Ah, yes.

It was then she remembered. How? She was seeing her life flash before her eyes.

She got lost somewhere at this very place. Gone astray from the loving embrace of her brother, another man who took pity on her, whom she can barely remember at all. Then, in sadness, she longed for comfort, burying herself in the snow. Burying herself witih the single fact that she was going to die soon.

And there was him, holding out his gloved hand and when she didn't take it, he decided to leave the firewood he carried, and took her instead.

She closed her eyes. But the visions lingered, even clearer in the darkness in her subconscious mind.

Her emerald gems widened.

Once again wrapped in a variety of colored cloth, a large scarf bundled around her. The smell of borsch, the wood accented with warm brown lighting. The roaring wind kept outside by the little homey shelter they called home.

And there he was, pale, silvery hair, amethyst eyes..

She could see him- laughing, being mauled by dogs, walking hand in hand with her, speaking in a language she couldn't quite make out, introducing her to everyone...

And where he held her in his arms, waltzing to the soft song she loved. His face was pure bliss.

She could hear every soft beat of her heart. It was going slower...their dance was growing slower.. The poor girl reached out for the fading picture, but she couldn't. Is this what he felt when he saw her running away? She never thought she would die this way.. But what did she expect?

Her outstretched hand dropped limp beside her already limp frame. She couldn't feel her legs.. Will someone...Will someone at least offer her a sunflower?

Maybe if she goes to sleep... Maybe if she sleeps away this bad dream, she could see him. Her wonderful friend. It was ironic that she had never asked for his name.

How nice would it be to dance with him again.

The young girl slowly drifted off to slumber, covered in her blanket of snow. She never expected to miss the winter, for she could only enjoy the comfort of his warmth in the cold. She dreamt of memories, the past memories in the forgotten snow...

All she knew was that she was going to die soon.

In peace, she lost herself to eternal sleep.

* * *

**a/n: If I may be honest with you guys, I don't actually understand what I've just wrote.**

**On an unrelated note, I saw a picture for the new Disney film Frozen...**

**And just laughed my head off when I realized the two main characters looked much like Russia and Liechtenstein. So there, *poof*, this story came to mind. I hope you enjoyed this.. even if it didn't have such a happy ending.**

**The song I used in the dancing part? I was listening to 'Canon for Wedding'. : / / w w w . ? v = Q**


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